


Mornings With You

by assholeachilleus



Series: Deaf!jon au [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Deaf!Jon, Jon and Martin love each other so much it makes me feral, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a character study on Jon and Martin in the mornings, timeline? what timeline? we die like jonny sims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholeachilleus/pseuds/assholeachilleus
Summary: A character study on Jonmartin in the morning, with copious amounts of fluff and cuddles. This is part of my deaf!Jon series but can be read in isolation.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Deaf!jon au [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072478
Comments: 12
Kudos: 100





	Mornings With You

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I wanted to write something that was going to go somewhere. But then this happened. I promise the next one will actually have some plot...maybe jkjdjsdj. So happy holidays and have some grossly in love Jonmartin with lots of fluff and cuddles. Likes and kudos are very much appreciated, and constructive feedback is always welcome. Hope you enjoy!

Mornings with Jonathan Sims went like this; Jon was not a morning person. He would lay curled up in bed, hair splayed like dark tendrils reaching out across the pillow, grasping at a chance to snatch those few minutes of extra sleep, hands engulfed by jumper arms far too long for him. He would lay until bright streams of light fell softly into the room, until the red hazy morning sky became smudged with brilliant blues and bright whites. Only then would Jon force himself up, blinking slowly as though struggling to recognise an old friend. Straining to make the desperate connection between sleeping and wakefulness, between the person he knew and the one he saw now.

Jon would stumble into the kitchen of his shared flat, chest warming at the sight of Martin fixing him a cup of tea. He took it greedily, hastily wrapping his hands around it, and clutching it to his chest.

Martin would smile patiently, stroking the greying strands of fallen hair back from his face, and straightening Jon's glasses where they lay haphazardly clinging to his nose in a futile attempt to stay on.

"Morning, love. How did you sleep?" Martin's voice was unfairly bright and clear of any lingering sleep, like a cloudy day turned vivid blue.

"Morning." Jon's voice, in comparison, was lower, like car tyres over gravel, drawn-out and deep.

Jon wouldn't say much in those quiet, peaceful moments. Instead content to wrap his arms around Martin, burying his cold nose in the junction of his collarbone, and carving out a home there. Jon was safe in the knowledge that he would always be welcome.

Eventually, Martin would press a gentle kiss to Jon's temple, worshipping the spot that was so aptly named.

Jon would in turn wind his arms tighter, eliciting a laugh from Martin, who would slowly disentangle himself and start breakfast.

By the time Jon was properly awake, he would press a kiss to Martin's mouth, savouring the intense feelings of belonging that hung in the air unsaid, and the peace that settled warm in his chest where Martin had carved out his own home.

Mornings with Martin Blackwood went like this; Martin was a morning person. At the first signs of red ink splashed across the dark sky his eyes would flutter open, he'd feel the comforting warmth where his flushed cheek had been pressed to the pillow, and he'd leave the loving embrace of his bed.

Martin loved how still everything felt in the early hours, as though the world were holding its breath in anticipation for what the day was going to bring.

The little sunlight that filtered in through the small kitchen window provided just enough hazy light for him to make a cup of tea. He sat, drawing the warmth into his hands that had been chilled by the cold morning air.

Mornings washed him with a serene peacefulness he couldn't obtain at any other time of day. He knew Jon worked best in the evenings, those first signs of darkening sky reinvigorating and breathing life into the man he'd come to love.

But Martin only felt the insistent pull of sleep when the day turned dark, blanketing the room in ashy light. He loved it most when he could watch the sky turn from inky blue, to brilliantly red, to startlingly blue again. A routine he never tired of.

Jon would join him eventually. Stumbling out their shared room and blinking into the day.

"I'm cold." Jon would complain every time without fail. Despite the fact he was drowning in the thick knitted material of one of Martin's jumpers.

Martin would click this tongue in sympathy, wrapping Jon up in his arms.

"Is that my jumper?" A teasing smile and playful tone in his voice. 

"No it's mine." And neither would be able to resist breaking out into goofy grins at the ridiculousness of the statement.

Martin loved mornings the most because they meant sleepy cuddles, chaste kisses, and whispered conversations over quickly cooling cups of tea. It was an intimacy he'd never been afforded until now.

Mornings with Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood definitely weren't perfect. There were spilled splashes of hot tea, accidental words with harsh bite, and hastily stumbled apologies as light flooded more insistently into the room.

They weren't perfect, but they were home. And maybe, ultimately, that was all that mattered.


End file.
